


eurosong fever

by janie_tangerine



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eurovision Song Contest, Crack, Eurovision, Glitter, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Use Of The Immortal Iron Fist, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tumblr Prompt, ironfistweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 20:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Hey,” Danny warns him as soon as Luke grabs his elbow and drags him behind the bathroom door — a bathroom covered in glitter, Sweet Christmas, why —, “you know that —”“Voting is over in twenty minutes and we have to be on stage to start announcing the points and so on? Yeah, I know, I knew it when you accepted this job, but you didn’t inform me —”“I figured that if I knew what Eurovision was everyone would!” Danny protests, but he’s not really sounding that sorry about having dragged Luke into this mess.





	eurosong fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ironwingedhawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironwingedhawk/gifts).



> I'M IN THE NICK OF TIME FOR IRONFISTWEEK STUFF which I should have finished earlier but hahaha *cries* so have _Powerfist Eurovision Au with some behind the scenes sex?_ for free day - this... isn't... really AN AU but I was there 'how are they at eurovision if they're american' and THIS HAPPENED and idek. I HOPE IT'S HALFWAY DECENT. ;)
> 
> Also: they aren't mine, nothing belongs to me and the title is from _that_ Father Ted episode that y'all should watch if you haven't already. Peace. XD

“Hey,” Danny warns him as soon as Luke grabs his elbow and drags him behind the bathroom door — a bathroom covered in _glitter_ , Sweet Christmas, _why_ —, “you know that —”

“Voting is over in twenty minutes and we have to be on stage to _start announcing the points_ and so on? Yeah, I _know_ , I knew it when _you_ accepted this job, but you didn’t inform me —”

“I figured that if _I_ knew what Eurovision was _everyone_ would!” Danny protests, but he’s not really sounding _that_ sorry about having dragged Luke into this mess.

Honestly, he thinks Danny enjoys wearing that _ridiculous_ green jacket covered in glitter _a bit too much_ for his tastes.

“Because do you think I watch television, or _singing competitions_?”

Seriously. He has no idea of why these completely crazy Europeans thought that since apparently the both of them became _extremely_ famous in here because they publicly dismantled by accident this crime organization in London (they were hired to nail _one_ of them in the US, they had no idea it’d bring them overseas), then _they should co-host_ this glitter and pop music inferno in Amsterdam, and Danny made it sound like it was some kind of tv show… and it’s _fucking not_.

God, Luke is a man of simple tastes. He likes his jazz, he likes his rap music, he absolutely digs soul and rap and he will occasionally like some Billboard top ten shit because it’s catchy and harmless, but _this_ kinda shit? It’s so over the top it’s not even funny, and he doesn’t even remember the damned songs, except that _Danny_ does because apparently he and Ward found out this thing existed by accident at some point and they’ve been obsessively watching it ever since.

So _now_ he’s _co-hosting_ Eurovision and they’re locked in the bathroom — _with glitter all over the ground_ —, Danny’s looking at him like someone who _absolutely_ doesn’t regret this, and Luke is just glad that he could get out of this ordeal with just a nice, regular three-piece yellow suit rather than, well, _glitter_.

“Come on,” Danny says, “you totally liked the Polish song.”

“I don’t even _remember_ the Polish song!”

“The one with the singer who totally looked like Jessica.”

“She doesn’t — okay, maybe a bit, but —”

“See? You totally did. Pity it was a ballad. Boring, if you ask me. To be honest I’m rooting for the Finnish —”

“The _Finnish_?”

“The only song that’s _not a ballad_ that they sung in the last half hour! Oh, and they were all dressed in pink.”

“Who _wasn’t_ ,” Luke shakes his head. “Of course you like the ones dressing in pink. Sweet Christmas. Listen, we’ve got fifteen minutes. I can’t do another hour of this without —”

“I see,” Danny smirks, still looking like he’s nowhere near sorry he got Luke into this mess. He moves closer, dragging Luke inside the nearest stall, and then he turns his hand outward. “I can’t do anything that would make them _get_ it, but —”

“God, _yes_ ,” Luke groans as he pushes Danny against the wall, effectively silencing him with a kiss — Danny responds eagerly, his hands going to Luke’s belt and working it open as their tongues find each other in a hurry, and then Luke can feel Danny grinning against his mouth as he leans his head back against the wall.

He moves back, looking at him and wondering if he can risk leaving a hickey on that pale, creamy skin, but maybe — _maybe not_. Maybe _later_.

“How long do we have?”

Luke glances at his watch. “Ten minutes tops.”

“That’ll work,” Danny says, his hand lighting up, a soft gold circling it, and then he puts a hand behind Luke’s neck and drags him _down_ , his fingers wrapping around his dick, stroking it sure and fast, and _shit_ , thing is — that damned fist is _warm_ , more than so, but it also _kind_ of vibrates a little if Danny controls it, and Danny learned to control it _very_ accurately at this point, which means that his whole fucking hand is wrapped around his dick, his _very, very hard_ dick, buzzing right against it, and if you get over how damn weird it is to have that damned _gold_ aura all around it, _well_ , it feels amazing.

Which is why he’s entirely down with this business — Danny wraps his fingers tighter around his shaft, uses his thumb to squeeze his head, and Luke can feel that he’s dropping precome all over his Danny’s palm, but _he can’t fucking care less_ , not when Danny’s strokes are getting slower but he’s putting a _lot_ of intent in it. Danny keeps on going, his mouth finding Luke’s again as Luke’s hands cross behind his back, moaning into his mouth as he’s pressed closer, and patience if Luke hates the feeling of that damned glitter jacket underneath his palm because the way Danny presses up against him as he keeps on jerking him off is just turning him on some more.

“Fuck,” Luke blurts, “we’ve got five minutes at most.”

“Oh, no need for that long,” Danny breathes back against his mouth. “By the way, you owe me a _way_ longer fuck later.”

“What —”

“Just try not to make _too much_ noise,” Danny says, and then his fist starts vibrating _more_ , and glowing _brighter_ , and then he’s stroking Luke’s dick _way, way_ faster, his palm slick and sticky and his entire hand holding him steady, and that’s — that’s it, Luke loves when Danny does this because he knows he _always_ comes in moments when it happens, and fine, it’s like, completely unfair ways of using your superpowers, except that since they’re extremely beneficial to _him_ , Luke’s not going to complain whatsoever. Danny certainly doesn’t when he can keep him lifted up against the wall for an hour straight if needed, does he?

Danny’s wrist flicks slightly, his fist glowing just a little brighter, and a moment later Luke’s coming against his hand, his fingers digging into Danny’s shoulders, dragging him closer and _closer_ while their mouths crash against each other again, Luke’s hand grasping at Danny’s hair (which is not styled anymore, _but who gives a fuck_ ) and Danny’s free one still at the back of his neck, and he doesn’t move until he’s done and Danny’s fingers have jerked him off to the point where he’s completely spent.

“Two minutes left,” Danny says as he looks at his phone, catching his breath. “Told you.”

Then he walks out of the stall, most likely going to wash his hands — right. Luke cleans himself off with the paper toilet and flushes it, tucks himself back in —

“Look at that,” Danny says from the outside, and —

Oh, _hell_. When Luke moved his hand from jacket to hair, _he brought the glitter with_.

So now Danny’s gold curls are _covered in freaking green glitter_.

“I’m — sorry?” Luke sputters, not knowing if he should laugh or not.

“Don’t be,” Danny shrugs, finishing to clean his hands and wiping them clean. “I mean, they’ll think I did it on purpose. But you also owe me a shower in _your_ room tonight, non-negotiable.”

“Well, if you keep on doing that thing with your hand, who am I to deny you?” Luke quips back, washing his hands as well.

“Then we have a deal,” Danny grins, and good thing that if he got hot and bothered it’s not showing.

Then again: his _pants_ are also covered in paillettes. They’re too distracting for anyone to notice what’s underneath, if you take the jacket into account as well.

“Sure we do. So, again, what country are we even rooting for?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Finland, of course. No ballads, at least it wasn’t boring. So, we going?”

Luke doesn’t dignify that with an answer — he dries his hands, makes sure that he looks presentable and follows Danny out of the room so they can be on stage when the voting is done.

He doesn’t know what is even the issue with ballads, but he thinks he’s really, _really_ not going to ask.

 

 

End.


End file.
